


Broken Wings

by AnOlympianHero



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOlympianHero/pseuds/AnOlympianHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Take these broken wings, and learn to fly again.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. waiting for days, turning into the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First fanfic in a very long time. 
> 
> Co-written with my close friend, Kim. 
> 
> I hope it doesn't burn your eyes.

Do you ever get the feeling that you're being watched? 

Not in the invasive, violating way but rather, the sense that someone's watching over you. 

Some say it's God, others say it's a relative that's passed on looking out for you, but very few seem to get it right. 

A guardian angel, following you rather than sitting on your shoulder. 

Whispering soft words of encouragement in your ear when all seems hopeless and you're about to give up. Giving you a gentle push in the right direction toward something great in life. Protecting you from the dark things in the world, watching over you in your sleep, keeping away the nightmares. 

It doesn't sound plausible, no; instead it sounds like something out of a novel, something that couldn't possibly be true.

But as they say, "Life is stranger than fiction."


	2. make a beast of myself, just to kill them all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an fyi to anyone who happens to read this: 
> 
> It's been like, 10,000 years since I last wrote a fanfic. So please, be gentle with me. 
> 
> Love you all!

Angels are not like humans. 

Not all angels are created equal. 

And though some are created lower than others, they can slowly work their way up to the top; they can never be archangels, no, but they can be important soldiers of the Lord. 

The lowest ranking of angel, you ask? Guardian angels. 

Now you think to yourself, how can that be? Such an important job, looking out for God's chosen children. But upstairs, far more important tasks are constantly at hand.

And of course, there are ordinary foot soldiers; those who exist to serve the word of God unto the worlds. 

Castiel was once one of them. Favoured by God, clearly, as he received the idea of going rogue. Of deciding for himself. Of enforcing the ideal of free will. The ability to choose for yourself.

But he was not like his brother, Lucifer. He did not defy the Lord in the way that Lucifer did. He knew he could never measure up or be greater than God, but he knew there was a better way. A lighter path. 

And he tried to lead his brothers and sisters; he tried and tried to make things right. 

But things never do go as planned, do they? 

After the averted apocalypse and the unleashing of the Leviathan and his many deaths and rebirths and loss of grace, Castiel was dying. 

Not a quick, painless death; not an easy death that he had so rightfully earned. But a slow, painful, drawn out death. One meant for someone of far less value than himself. But he accepted it. 

He didn't enjoy stealing the grace of other angels, no. Of course it hurt him. Castiel was, in so many ways, righteous. But he needed his strength, he needed to be as close to "full power" as possible. 

That's when the Lord finally intervened. He didn't like seeing his wonderful, winged creation making deals with that filthy Crowley and going to that abomination Metatron for help. 

So he gave him an opportunity he couldn't refuse. 

"Castiel, my son," he said in the angel's ear, "I will restore your grace this once, but you will have to return to your original standing on your own." 

Castiel was, of course, confused by this; "What do you mean, Father? Will you not let me be who I was before?" 

The Lord chuckled at the winged creature's words. "No, my son. That is up to you." 

With a gust of powerful wind, Castiel gasped and coughed as his full-level of grace was restored. He smiled some to himself at the feeling of being whole again, but was still befuddled by his father's words. 

Then suddenly, he found himself in a place he didn't recognize at all. 

It seemed to be the room of a young woman. It was dark, only dim moonlight streaming through the white wooden blinds in front of the bay window. 

Castiel looked around frantically until he saw the sleeping figure of the young woman in her bed. He felt the breath become caught in his throat, even though he didn't have to breathe at all. The sight of her was magnificent. 

She was beautiful. And she was his to take care of.


End file.
